


Make It Work

by sayoko



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Kinda, Project Runway!AU, Prompt Fic, god i loved that show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10761648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayoko/pseuds/sayoko
Summary: Illumi and Machi pair up for a challenge at Project Runway, and the solution for a problem turns against them. Inspired by a tumblr convo.





	Make It Work

**Author's Note:**

> \o/ For @Painpackerrisingsun and @Fourleafclovercounting at tumblr!

Just minutes after Machi and Illumi had gotten to the studio, they were approached by a member of the crew. She had a clipboard and a frown. It couldn’t be good news.

“There was a scandal with the model agency we were working with and we have had trouble finding another,” the woman said. “If you know anyone, any model that could help you out this occasion, it would be great.”

Machi and Illumi looked at each other. It was not just ‘great’; it was primordial. That day they were supposed to meet their models for the first time and make the first arrangements; if they didn’t find others, they would lose a day. They knew it. The competition might be for a TV show, but the producers were as strict and heartless as if they were already working for the fashion industry. If no one managed to find more models that day, they just would have to keep on working blindly, praying to all gods that whatever model appeared later was close to the size and shape of their garments.

“I know someone,” Machi said. “Chrollo Lucilfer, I can call him right now.”

The woman nodded energetically, and then went back to frowning. “You’re still one model short.”

Machi bit her lips. She knew, but she didn’t dare call any of the other members of the gang. Not because there weren’t some that could pass as models, but because they would totally embarrass her on the runway. And television. Worldwide embarrassment. On second thought, maybe Feitan wouldn’t… But with that height it would be too obvious he wasn’t really a model.

“I think I can get someone to come, maybe…” Illumi finally said, “I’ll call him and let you know what he says.” 

The woman left visibly more relieved, but Machi was not. Illumi was not someone to talk in ‘I thinks’ and ‘maybes’. He was hiding something.

“Is he a model?” She asked him bluntly.

“No, but he can fake it,” Illumi answered.

She didn’t ask more. They were not really friends; they were just working together because the week’s challenge had to be in pairs, but Machi believed in him. Illumi seemed to be practical and responsible, so if he said this guy could fake it, the guy could fake it.

 

A couple of hours later, a group of models were let into the studio. They weren’t many. Clearly the production had failed on contacting another agency on time for that day. Had Machi and Illumi not managed to find their own, it would have been catastrophic.

_But we were lucky!_ Machi thought, trying to remain positive like her girlfriend always recommended her.  _We’re lucky. We have our models and soon they’re gonna try their outfits and we are-_

Machi felt the back of her mouth go sour when two men approached their table. One was Chrollo, but the other…

“Oh my! Machi! What a pleasant surprise! So many familiar faces here~”

_We are screwed._

Hisoka Morou. The person Illumi had invited was Hisoka Morou. How fucking small was the world that, from all people, Illumi had to invite _him_?

“Huh? Do you know each other?” Illumi asked the redhead.

Hisoka let out a snort. “We’ve met before,” he simply said while his eyes wandered from Machi to Chrollo.

Surprisingly, Illumi seemed to capture this brief eye movement because, with widened eyes, he asked, “You know Machi’s model too?”

Before Hisoka could answer to that, Chrollo stepped in between them and extended his hand.

“I think we’re the only ones who haven’t met before. I’m Chrollo Lucilfer.”

Machi sighed. It was going to be fine. Chrollo was a professional. Between the 3 of them, they would be able to placate the chaotic clown force that Hisoka was.

She grabbed Hisoka by an arm and guided him to the shoe section. Illumi and Chrollo could get to know each other while they gathered what they needed from there.

 

It took them a bit longer than expected because Hisoka insisted that he could use heels, and Machi that she didn’t care, that they were given flat shoes so that was what they were using, and Hisoka sneaking from her side and going around asking people if they could talk to someone to get some proper runway shoes.

When they got back to their working space, Machi was a bit confused. Chrollo was casually sitting on the table and Illumi was still in his chair, looking as small as Machi had ever seen him. It was ridiculous; Illumi was taller and had a more menacing presence that Chrollo, but there he was, looking up at him like a kid hypnotized by the Sunday morning cartoons.

And when she got closer, she could understand why. How he had unbuttoned his shirt, the way he was slightly leaning back, the way his teeth shined on a permanent smile on his face; Chrollo was fucking flirting.

Heavily, she set her free hand on the model's shoulder.

“Oi,” she said, eyes glaring daggers, “did you take his measures already?”

Illumi gasped, completely surprised he had forgotten. Chrollo gasped, completely faking he was surprised he had forgotten.

“Ah, we got distracted,” Illumi said as he quickly started gathering things.

Machi stared at Chrollo.

_I know you’re flirting_ , she said with glaring eyes. _Stop it_.

Chrollo smiled at Machi.

_Try to stop me_ , he seemed to respond with smiling eyes, which, she had to admit, would have made Kyra Banks really proud.

 

The time with the models ran out and they were escorted out of the room. Chrollo waved goodbye all the way to the door. Illumi waved back.

“Hey,” Machi started, though she didn’t really know what to say. She was no one to stop people from flirting, but this was not the place. She was there to win, and she just wanted to make sure Illumi’s silly crush wouldn’t get in the way.

It had been too obvious; the way they kept talking all the time, holding each other’s gazes, Chrollo casually sliding his hands over Illumi’s arm at each opportunity, Hisoka slowly despairing in the background as he realized no one was really paying attention to him. _Ok that last part was a bit fun_ , she had to admit.

“Yeah?” Illumi asked back absentmindedly.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he answered vaguely again, then looked at his notes, then back at Machi. “I was just thinking, maybe we should do some fixes to our project.”

She leaned forward to see what fixes he was talking about, and the drawings were like a slap on the face.

Black leather, crosses, fur collars, straps; she knew this aesthetic, this was Chrollo’s Goth aesthetic.

“No,” she said curtly.

“But you haven’t even seen,” he pleaded.

What was there to see? Illumi (or rather Chrollo, she suspected) had changed their entire concept from traditional-Japanese-clothing-inspired to romantic-bordering-on-fetish gothic. It was madness. The chances of the judges hating the collection and their proposal passing down to the wall of shame of the show were uncertain, but they existed, and that alone was unbearably frightening.

“Look, if you want you can use all that for your own project next week, but right now we’re against time and we need to finish this.”

Illumi stared at his sketchbook and Machi was sure, so sure, that he had not given up on the idea yet.

“Sure…” He said.

 

 

“And he kept trying to change the designs!!!” Machi complained to her girlfriend later that night at their home. “’Sure’, he said, but he kept trying to add crosses and straps and big golden buttons and oh-my-god!”

Pakunoda listened silently as she gathered a bottle of wine and two glasses. She looked at Machi, reconsidered, and grabbed two bigger glasses.

“And, I don’t even know how to tell him that it sucks!!! I thought Illumi had good taste but clearly he’s just as lame as Chrollo. Or he’s just lame _for_ Chrollo.”

Pakunoda tried not to laugh at her girlfriend’s story. Instead, she calmly sat next to her on the couch and handed her a glass of wine.

“I’m so scared. I told him we were against time but we still have some days left, and he knows it. I know he knows it. He’s smart. He’ll find the way to get me to agree,” she continued while cuddling next to Pakunoda, eyes lost in the distance. “How does he do it Paku? How could he charm Illumi like that? I thought that guy had no heart.”

This time Pakunoda couldn’t help snorting. “Everyone has a heart. You have two.”

“Two?”

“Yes. You have yours, and mine.”

Machi looked up at her girlfriend and hid her face on her chest before her cheeks went full red. Or blood orange, like that girl Bisky had said the other day. _Tchh, ‘blood orange’._

Pakunoda giggled. “Are you feeling better now?”

Machi just nodded against her chest.

“If I may offer a word of advice, I think you should agree a little with that Illumi guy,” Pakunoda took a sip of wine. “Let him have the golden buttons at least. That way he’s happy, Chrollo’s happy, the judges will be happy and you’ll advance to the next stage.”

“You say it like it’s so easy to make it work.”

“Hmm… Yes, maybe not, but I believe in your work. If someone can fit Chrollo’s kinky priest aesthetic in the runway, it’s you.”

Machi lifted her head just enough for Pakunoda to see her bright eyes, then went back to hiding and whined.

“I love you.”

Pakunoda smiled at the muffled sound.

“I feel so stupid now,” Machi continued.

“Why?”

“I totally overreacted…”

“Haha, a little, but you kept your cool at the studio, so it doesn’t matter.”

Machi let her girlfriends’ finger glide soothingly through her hair as she tried not to think of the one minute long scream she had ungraciously let out at the Confession Cam room. She took a long sip as she tried not to think of the editors going through that tape probably at that same very moment.

“I’m more ridiculous than Bisky,” she whispered to herself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just fill my glass.”

“But it already-”

“Just fill it. To the top. Please.”


End file.
